


Respawn

by renegadeartist



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Supernatural AU - Freeform, also featuring reaper other people, reaper!ryan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:57:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadeartist/pseuds/renegadeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He giggled. Like a child, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Michael was cute when he yelled. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t have to worry all the time.”</p>
<p>He kept walking, but he was spun around by a firm had so he was facing a seething Michael. His eyebrows were pulled together so tightly he wondered how they hadn’t permanently frozen that way. “Gavin. You need to pay attention. I swear, it’ll get you killed someday. Just, please-“</p>
<p>“Shh,”</p>
<p>“What the fuck? Are you fucking serious-“</p>
<p>“Shh,” he stopped in the middle of the dim sidewalk, listening intently to the wind whistling through the tall, empty buildings. “I heard something.”</p>
<p>Or the one where Ryan is a reaper and no one knows what's happening other than Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Fear the Reaper

The city wasn't... What he expected, to be honest. He expected lights on the side of the road, clean diners and smiling faces. What he got instead was scouting faces hidden under hoods and trash littering every place it shouldn't. People weren't nice; the city was _not_ what he expected. But at least he was with someone he knew. They would have destroyed him in a day if Michael wasn't there with him.

 

Even if the city was dark and depressing and dirty and... he should probably stop thinking about it like that. Either way he was glad to be visiting it with Michael. Well, visiting was a loose term. He was planning to move into the city. Having seen it in all its glory, he was less sure. But it was the only place he could find a solid career in the type of film he did. Slow motion was not used often enough in film to make it easy to procure a job. But there was a large cultural part of the city teeming with jobs for his unique skill in slow motion filmography.

 

They were walking through a side street. According to Michael it was a shortcut. It might have been true, but Gavin didn’t particularly care. Either way he got to spend more time with Michael and learn more about the city. “Gav?… Gav!”

 

“Eh? What? You say something Michael?”

 

He could see the smoldering fire behind his eyes. As much as he loved pushing the short tempered American’s buttons, he honestly didn’t know what he had asked. He got distracted too easily, and he had a feeling Michael was about to do what he did best, yell. “I swear to _God,_ Gavin. Listen to people when they talk to you. It’s common courtesy, and last I checked I’m the one giving you a place to stay. You wouldn’t want to stay out in the streets, especially with the gangs in this part of town.”

 

He giggled. Like a child, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Michael was cute when he yelled. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t have to worry all the time.”

 

He kept walking, but he was spun around by a firm had so he was facing a seething Michael. His eyebrows were pulled together so tightly he wondered how they hadn’t permanently frozen that way. “ _Gavin._ You need to pay attention. I swear, it’ll get you killed someday. Just, please-“

 

“Shh,”

 

“What the fuck? Are you fucking serious-“

 

“ _Shh,”_ he stopped in the middle of the dim sidewalk, listening intently to the wind whistling through the tall, empty buildings. “I heard something.”

 

Michael had frozen, and suddenly he knew this was not a good thing. He would have never acknowledged the sound, but there was something about it that subconsciously registered in his mind as needing help. “Hear what?”

 

“I dunno. It sounded like-“ It came again from a side alley, the moaning of a person who was injured, alone, and afraid. Without thinking he plunged into the alley, pulling out his small penlight to illuminate the small, dark alcove. He saw a man there, beaten down to the ground and lying in a pool of liquid. _Blood,_ his mind supplied. He gulped, feeling bile rise up his throat. The light dropped and he noticed a brace around the prone man’s ankle. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was finding somewhere to empty the contents of his stomach and getting away from the stench of blood.

 

“Gavin, hey, what- oh, _fuck.”_

 

He came racing out and almost bowled the American over. He tried to get away but Michael caught him around the middle and swung him around to face him.

 

He looked at Michael, shivering despite the fact there was no breeze and that the city rarely ever reached temperatures beneath 40 degrees. The Brit began to babble nonsense, retching and coughing in-between words. Michael took a step away from him at that point, leaving Gavin to dry heave into a cluster of garbage cans. Michael uneasily looked towards the entrance of the alley.

 

"Dude what the _fuck's_ wrong?" he asked the other, his voice a mixture of pure concern and pure annoyance. The brit managed to compose himself well enough to straighten up for a moment, wiping his mouth on his hoodie sleeve.

 

"In... i-in the alley. That's where the noise is-" He covered his mouth and began retching into the garbage again. Michael awkwardly patted his back and headed towards the 'dreaded' alley.

 

"Just calm down, man. You're fucking embarrassing."

-.-

Michael couldn't determine what smelled worse, the trash littering the cement ground or the blood that covered it. In the dimness of the alley he was able to make out a figure propped up against the wall.

 

"Holy shit." he breathed and walked closer. "Hey man, you alive? If so you are seriously fucked up. Are you alright to stand or..?"

 

The only response he got was a groan, and he knew he wasn’t going to get an answer anytime soon. His gaze skittered across the prone form, taking in the light hair, the dark clothes, and the-.

 

That wasn’t good.

 

He hesitated for a moment before leaning down and grabbing the man’s arms. The thought entered his mind too late for him to worry about getting blood on his clothes and Michael wondered for a moment if he was insane. Shifting the dead weight of the man into a fireman’s carry he came out of the alley. Gavin had recovered enough to be leaning on the trashcans and not retching into them.

 

“We’re going home, come on.” It was times like these he wished he knew how to drive. It would save him the burden of carrying the man that might not be a man and the complaints and uncertainties from Gavin.

 

“A-are you sure? Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”

 

“No, they don’t help around here and if this guy’s what I think he is then we need to get him standing and send him on his merry way.”

 

Gavin made a face and stared at the body being carried by Michael.

 

"What _is_ he? Y-you said _what,_ not _who._ What did you mean?" he asked. Michael looked somewhat uncomfortable, and shifted the body on his shoulder.

 

"I'll tell you later, alright? Now let’s get the fuck out of here."

-.-

The walk was awkward to say in the least and the trio received more than a few worried looks from strangers. He hoped they thought it was a hard night out drinking. He hoped they didn’t care. He hoped more than anything that they didn’t call the cops. Michael tried to act as calm and casual a person carrying around a possibly dead body can be. He glanced over at his partner to find him looking off into the distance with a thoughtful expression.

 

"Micoo-"

 

" _Michael_ "

 

"Alright, _Michael,_ " Gavin began, saying his name in a fake American accent. "If you can't tell me what this guy is, can you at least tell me if he’s… y'know, dangerous?"

 

"No clue." Michael said with a shrug.

 

"So... He could wake up and be very pissy then, I dunno, kill us?"

 

"Yep."

 

"Hm." Gavin stared thoughtfully for another minute "I'm not sure if I feel safe around him."

 

"Boo-fucking-hoo, now open the god damned door, my hands are kind of full here." Gavin complied and shuffled in his pocket for the keys Michael had given him.

 

They entered the small, dark apartment and the first thing he did was dump the dead weight on the couch nearest to the door. He took a deep breath and switched on the lights. “Well come on, Gavin. It’s not like you’ve never been here before.”

 

The brit was shuffling in the doorway, nervously eyeing the form slumped on the couch in a position that he would have probably complained about had he been conscience. “I- I dunno. What happens when he- when he, y’know, wakes up?”

 

“Then he’ll be awake, that’s about it. What more do you want? I doubt he’ll pull a gun on us as soon as he regains consciousness.”

 

He pulled a chair out from the small table in the kitchen and set it in front of Gavin, indicating for him to sit down. _This is gonna be a hard night,_ he thought. “So you want an explanation then?”

 

He immediately sat down, looking like a child who had just been told Christmas was coming early. “Y-yeah!”

 

“Ugh,” he groaned. “Where do I start?”

 

“What about who-what he is?”

 

Michael shot him a withering look. He didn’t have time for this bullshit right now. “It was rhetorical. And he-” he pointed to the man on his couch, and he winced at the stains of blood he was just now noticing. It was going to take forever to clean. “Is a reaper; at least I think he is.”

 

“…Reaper?”

 

“Reaper.” At Gavin’s confused expression he sighed. He would have to explain further the concept of reapers and their role in the city’s underground smuggling ring. “Reapers are, like, uh… people who take souls where they need to go I guess.”

 

“Well I know w _hat_ they are. Everyone does,” Gavin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “What I mean is what is one doing _here?_ Aren’t they like… myths or super smegging rare?”

 

Michael sighed again and he wandered into the kitchen, searching for a knife. “First, I don’t know what that means and second they’re as real as we are. And third,” he came back into the main room and sat down on the couch. “My best guess was he was jumped.”

 

The brit looked at Michael in stunned disbelief. “A _reaper_ was _jumped.”_

 

“As far as I know, yes. I don’t know why he was left in the alley though.” Reaching over to the reaper’s ankle he slid the knife under the brace. Slowly working it loose he lost himself for a second. The brace was a simple, silver thing but he knew well what it was used for. Trapping and transportation. It would stick a reaper in their corporeal form and slowly strip them of their identity. The brace would keep them there long enough to take them God knows where.

 

_Dark. Why was it so dark? There was no light, nothing anywhere. Who was he again? He was Michael, yeah. That was right, Michael. Why was he here? In this dark place, with no sound, no light._

He jumped, popping the brace off and ripping him from the memory. It was a memory, right? Well why couldn’t he remember it happening? What was it about again? He didn’t know. He was being paranoid.

 

“Michael?”

 

“Huh?” Gavin was looking at him worriedly. _Stop looking at me like that,_ he thought, _I’m not a child you need to baby._ He couldn’t let it escape his throat though. It would crush him. And besides, he was just being nice. “Yeah, he was jumped. You see this here?” he held up the brace. “This means someone tried to take him somewhere. My best guess is they got two, and had to leave him there. It’ll be a nasty surprise when they find him gone-“

 

“M-Michael!” Gavin squawked. He would have yelled at him had he not been forced to the ground by a very-much-awake reaper. His hair was a mess and his eyes were impossibly wide. He looked panicked and Michael immediately backed away.

 

“Where is he?” was the first thing he demanded. It took Michael a minute to realize he was holding a sword. A long, curved blade that was black as obsidian. He recalled dimly that all reapers had something similar on them at all times.

 

Michael held his hands up in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. “Calm down. Where is who?”

 

“You know who!” With the calm approach not working he began to slowly inch forwards. Maybe he could knock him out before he hurt anyone. “Where’s my partner?!”

 

“Calm down, I don’t know who you’re talking about. The only people here are me, you, and Gavin over there.” He pointed over his shoulder at a frozen brit, looking lost and scared and glued to the chair. “Now, let’s start with a name. What’s yours? I’m Michael.”

 

He could see the reaper’s resolve crumbling. They had a natural aptitude for sensing motives and he apparently didn’t sense any malice from Michael. “Ryan.”

 

“Great. Nice to meet you Ryan. Now, could you put down the sword please?”

 

He hesitated for a minute, as if wondering if he was being tricked. He didn’t put it down, but he did lower it. His eyes scanned the room and he apparently didn’t find what he was looking for because he slumped down onto the couch and for a second Michael was worried he had fainted again. “Where’s my partner then?”

 

Michael cringed at the defeated tone the reaper used. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

 

“I was teaching him the business. Y’know, how it works, being a reaper. He was my partner, I helped him. I was supposed to _protect him.”_

He looked about ready to flip his shit again and before Michael could say anything to diffuse the situation Gavin was there rubbing the reapers back and telling him it was going to be alright, that they would find his partner and it would all work out fine.

 

There was no getting out of this and he knew it. He sighed and sat down. “So, how are we going to find your partner?”

 

“I… I don’t know. I could ask the higher ups, but then who knows what they would do to me.” His head was in his hands and Gavin was still fawning over him.

 

His hands were shaking. Glancing up at the reaper’s face, Michael noticed that his face was a mixture of pain and worry. “Hey, Gav.”

 

He stopped moving for a moment to glance over at the American. “Yeah, Michael?”

 

“Maybe you should come over here with me for a moment.” He was already halfway to his bedroom, motioning Gavin to follow. The brit’s face contorted into a worried expression dashed with trepidation but he came anyway.

 

In the small, dusty, dim room he demanded an explanation. “What the hell was that? You would just leave him there?”

 

“Well for one, I think I know why his higher ups wouldn’t trust him, and two if I’m right about it then you’d better be glad we left him alone.”

 

He crossed his arms. “Alright. What the hell does _that_ mean? He seemed harmless enough.”

 

“I don’t think you get it. He’s not a human. He doesn’t work like we do.”

 

“Alright, smartass. How do they work then? Also, how do you even know all this?”

 

He hesitated. “You don’t get far in this city without knowing the basics of reapers. For one, they’re _super_ unstable in our world. They don’t normally stay; just get the soul of the dead person and leave.” He shuffled his feet and glanced down at the ground. He heard a thumping in the other room. “They all handle it differently, but it’s a stretch for anything good to come of it.”

 

“So… what? They go crazy?”

 

He let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.” He shuffled around for a second. “So you better choose quickly what you want to do.”

 

Gavin’s face turned into one of confusion and it was enough to make Michael almost kick Ryan out and be done with it. “What do you mean?”

 

“I _mean_ do you want to help him or not.”

 

"Wait... you're thinking of _helping_ him? A stranger?" He squawked.

 

"Well to be fair reapers tend to be the grateful type, so I don't see why we don't and see what comes of it." It was the best he could come up with. Truth be told he kind of liked the reaper but he would never tell that to Gavin or to the man himself. And not even in the romantic way, just the feeling people get when they meet someone compatible.

 

"I-you-I... that seems a bit selfish, innit?"

 

"Well we can't all be saints." With that he threw open the door with its cracked and peeling paint and journeyed back into the room Ryan was in.


	2. Ain't It a Fine Life

It wasn't as bad as he expected. The coffee table was flipped but besides that there wasn't much collateral damage. The reaper had his head in his hands and he was practically radiating power and sparking energy. The feeling was weird and unfamiliar but he kept on, gently prodding the black fabric that the reaper seemed partial to wearing.

 

A hand shot out, frail and shaking but still capable of holding a vice like grip. "Hey, hey, hey, I'm not trying to hurt you dude, I'm here to help."

 

From what Michael had seen the man seemed rather rational, and he guessed normally he was. But he was one of the more unstable ones. The ones born from human souls that died and never remembered who they were. His face resembled the hand still clamped around his wrist. "That's what they all say." His eyes were clouded. Michael knelt down and clamped a hand on his other shoulder. He flinched, but didn't try anything more.

 

"Ryan, Rybread, you gotta snap outta this shit. I can't hold a conversation with you like this. Much less when it's about your partner."

 

He took a deep breath and released Michael's hand. His eyes focused on something in the room while Michael rubbed his sore wrist. "Sorry," he muttered.

 

"Alright. Well. Now that that's out of the way we can talk about something. We're," he motioned to Gavin and himself, "going to help you find your partner."

 

"We are?" Gavin shrilly whispered and it earned him a jab in the ribs.

 

"Yes, now where do you plan to start."

 

His eyes were getting progressively more unfocused so he answered quickly. "We could start at the gates of Hell."

 

"What in the bloody hell does that mean?"

 

"It means he'll have to do some fancy reaper shit," Michael whispered to him.

 

"An remind me why he can't do this himself?" Gavin hissed back.

 

"Reapers are weird. They can't do much in our world besides the whole soul thing. Looking for his partner would be impossible for him, but not for us. Just like how it would be impossible for us to find a soul in his world. It just doesn't work like that."

 

"Ahem," Ryan interrupted, motioning for them to sit on the couch he had vacated. He looked terrible in his black cloak and discount sneakers. Michael pondered the novelty of a reaper wearing knockoff sneakers and a high school wannabe occultist's cloak around his shoulders. But he decided it could wait. "If you could sit down before I lose my fucking mind again we'll be on our merry way." He was a sassy one.

 

"Alright, alright." He and Gavin made their way to the sofa and sat down. Gavin seemed incredibly tense. "What now?"

 

"Just- uh, close your eyes, I guess. Let me just try something."

 

"Try something?" Squeaked Gavin, eyes closed.

 

Michael opened his mouth to ask something along the lines of "what the fuck do you think you're doing" but found his stomach dropping, as if he was falling too far too fast.

 

"Alright," came a voice that he thought he recognized. It sounded like... no. That couldn't be him. He was dead. "Open your eyes and get up."

 

Oh. It was just Ryan. The crazy reaper. Michael's eyes fluttered open and he realized he was indeed on the ground. Or what he assumed was the ground. It was dark and rough and not really there. Above him it was dark and he might have thought he was in a cave had there not been millions upon millions of lights dancing above his head.

 

Beside him, Gavin gasped. Glancing over, Michael noticed he was staring at the ceiling, though he was sitting up. Michael did the same, hauling himself up and standing next to Ryan, who looked better then he had. "They're souls. Of the ones who have died and the ones that will. Even I'm up there, though they wouldn't let me see it."

 

Gavin was standing too. "W-wait. How can they be souls of people who haven't died? And furthermore, where the hell are we?"

 

Ryan looked at Gavin like he was a rare kind of creature not usually seen. Michael felt similarly. His attention  was diverted to the ceiling. "They represent who you are, who you were, what you've done, and what you will do. They are you and you are them, though they look much more impressive up close." He sighed and looked back down. "We're in the closest equivalent to what you call hell."

 

"Where's all the fire and eternal torment then?" Michael snarked.

 

"It's only like that on the weekends," Ryan said with a straight face. Either he was incredibly good at telling jokes or he was serious.

 

"Alright... so what are we doing here?"

 

"We're here to meet an old friend of mine. He'll know where my partner is or at the very least know what to do next."

 

"And why are we here again?" Gavin complained.

 

The reaper looked him straight in the eye and said, "Do you really trust me in the state I am in your world to competently deliver information? Because if so then you're dumber then I thought."

 

"H-hey! That was uncalled for!" Gavin protested.

 

Before the two could descend into a lover's quarrel, Michael noticed a figure a few feet away from there. He nearly jumped ten feet. "Hey! Who the fuck are you?"

 

The figure chuckled. "Nice to meet you too. I'm Jon, or the Gatekeeper, or Thantos, or whatever-the-hell you prefer." He laughed at his own joke. "Basically I take the dead where they need to go."

 

"But we're not dead," Gavin unhelpfully pointed out.

 

The figure radiated confusion and Michael attempted to get a better look at him. He was of average height, though he seemed to have a slight build. There wasn't much he could pick out through the gloom, but one thing he could see was the ornate hood covering his eyes. It was a navy blue, with golden scrollwork than seemed to be constantly changing, spitting out words in languages he didn't understand and every so often something he did. "You seem pretty dead to me."

 

Rather then sputter like Gavin, the American rounded on the one that had brought them there. " _Ryan_. Care to explain?"

 

He looked nervous. He scratched the back of his head and chuckled, trying to buy time. "Yeah. About that. I kinda hadtoripyoursoulsfromyourbodytogetyouhere."

 

"YOU DID MOTHERFUCKING _WHAT_?!"

 

Ryan flinched. Good. "Sorry?" He tried feebly.

 

"YOU ESSENTIALLY KILL US AND ALL YOU HAVE TO OFFER AS A PEACE OFFERING IS A GODDAMN 'SORRY'? SORRY ASSHOLE, BUT THAT'S NOT GONNA CUT IT."

 

"Look. It was the only way I thought of to get you here was to... Well, do that. But I can fix it, I promise."

 

"I can vouch for that, though it's gonna be rougher going back." Jon supplied.

 

"Ugh, fine. Whatever, asshat. Why do you have that damn hood then. Makes you look like an ass."

 

"Well my mauled eye sockets tend to be a bit of a downer, and besides, it looks cool."

 

Michael blanched for a moment. "Wait- what-? Why are your eyes mauled?"

 

"Because I did something the higher-ups didn't like so they took my sight as punishment. But it's ok. I can still kinda see."

 

"Alright then." Michael replied awkwardly. He had put himself in the corner that he was in and he didn't really know what to say.

 

"So Ryan seems to think you can help us," said a so far silent Gavin. He seemed to be taking the whole ripped-from-his-body thing marginally better then Michael was.

 

The Gatekeeper shrugged. "Depends. I help a lot of people. Might be I can help, might be I can't. Though I can't say it won't come priceless."

 

"I can pay it," Ryan interjected. "I've done it before I can do it again."

 

"Ryan," Jon sighed. "You and I both know that you don't have shit."

 

"Jon. I'm just trying to find Ray. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

 

Ray? Why did that name sound familiar? It was... someone he knew? A face swam in his memory with a fast laugh and a pair if thick framed glasses. "Hey Ryan," he interrupted. Jon looked pissed and worried and Michael could tell even if he couldn't see his face. But he continued. "Are there any side effects to what you did?"

 

"Memory loss is the most prominent," Jon answered for him. "Why do you ask?"

 

Well shit. Seemed like he wouldn’t be able to figure out who Ray was until they got back. If they got back. To be honest he didn't quite trust Ryan's skills. "Just wondering."

 

"And it couldn't have waited?" Ryan seemed flustered and frustrated. Michael just shrugged.

 

“Well if you want to find him you came to the wrong person. I’m your friend, Ryan, I really am. Don’t forget that. But it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t help you find him. You could try the fates, though I don’t know if they would look at you favorably. You know what they say about you.”

 

Ryan looked mad, though Michael was a bit lost. “What do you _mean_ you can’t find him? You’re the _Gatekeeper_ for fuck’s sake. You’re supposed to know about everyone and everything.”

 

He just shrugged and spread his arms, trying to explain. “Yeah, I get that that’s what I’m supposed to do. But it doesn’t change the fact that I lost that ability when I lost my eyes. It was my fault and I was foolish to think I could get away with it but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve lost the ability to see the stars and there won’t be a Gatekeeper who can for another century or so.”

 

“So you’re saying we should look somewhere else?”

 

“Basically.”

 

 “But _where?”_

“Dude, fuck if I know. I’m only the Gatekeeper that lost his sight. Ask the Fates, they’re the only other trustworthy ones in this godforsaken world.”

-.-

He wasn't one to be sick easily, that was Gavin's job. Unfortunately while he managed to keep it in, Gavin practically ran to the bathroom on unsteady legs to heave up whatever he had left in his stomach. Jon was right, apparently. It was worse getting back.

 

Ryan stood in his living room, still looking as nervous as ever.

 

"So that wasn't as successful as I would have liked." He said, but Michael wasn't listening.

 

He was back, and he _remembered_.

 

"Wait," he said, still worn out from the journey. "You said your partner was named Ray. As in, Narvaez?"

 

The reaper's shocked expression was all the answer he needed. He felt a mixture of emotions. From happiness to rage, he got up and thumped the twit in the chest. "Why didn't you _tell_  me? You think I don't _care_  just because he _died_? Well news flash, asshole. Humans are the clingy kind."

 

"W-what are you talking about? You knew him?"

 

"Yes, I _did_ before... you know what, never mind. But you know what, we're going to find him. Go talk to the Fates, whoever they are. Just make sure you _find_  him. Or I swear, I'll make you wish you'd never let that Puerto Rican fuck out of your sight."

 

"I-it wasn't like that-" he stuttered.

 

Michael just held up his hand. "Save it. Just go. The longer you're here the longer Ray's in danger."

 

The reaper looked at him sadly. There was pity in his eyes. Like he thought Michael didn't know. "He probably doesn't remember you, y'know."

 

"I _know_." He ground out. With that, Ryan disappeared and Michael let the tears fall.

 

Keep it together you fuck, he thought angrily to himself. Crying won't do Ray any good. But it felt good to let it out. The way he didn't let it when he stood in front of that unresponsive slab of marble, roses covering every inch of the grave.

 

"Michael? Are you okay?" Great. Now he had Gavin to worry about. He was looking worn out and tired and sick, just about everything Michael was feeling. He was too exhausted to worry about this shit.

 

"I'm fine. Let's just go to sleep. It's been a long day."

 

"A-alright. Whatever you say, Micool."

 

God, he hoped he would never loose Gavin too.

 

-.-

 

The forest was dead and empty. The light from an eternally setting sun bathed the birch trees a warm orange. He wondered who the star was supposed to be. He would never find out, but he still wondered.

 

"Ryan!" A voice called out, and he saw a familiar face come forward through the trees.

 

"Lindsay." He was glad it was her and not one of the others.

 

"What could you possibly be doing here? Last time I checked Kdin practically threw you out." He winced at the memory, but he still managed to force out a halfhearted chuckle.

 

"Well good thing it's not Kdin." He stopped smiling. "And you know why I'm here."

 

The sun made her hair look like it was burning, and the fake smile she wore was reminiscent of a well practiced businesswoman. "Of course I do. I am a Fate, after all. But can you blame a girl for wanting to dispense formalities first?"

 

"Please, if you know why I'm here then you know every second is precious."

 

"Indeed I do, but you know that just makes the price for my knowledge go up." The Fate's system was a corrupt one but not one he could argue with. He didn't have the time this time around.

 

"What is it you want this time? You took the only chance of me remembering who I was. What else could I possibly have?"

 

Lindsay only smiled, and smoothed her white dress. It was a wedding dress, he had noticed the first time he had met her. He wasn't sure what it signified, though he knew it was nothing happy. Fates were rarely a happy kind. "I'll tell you a secret," she leaned in eagerly and Ryan did the same, though a little less excitedly. "You will get your memory back. But therein lies the price. To get what you want, you'll have to give me a memory."

 

"But how can I do that when even I can't remember it?"

 

"Oh, I'll make sure it works. So, do we have a deal?"

 

He didn't trust that smile. He didn't trust that stare and the light dancing over her. He didn't trust any of the fates, and most of all he didn't want to give away his memories. But what choice did he have? He had to get Ray back. He couldn't leave him wherever he was. And Michael apparently knew him. It must be nice, having people remember you.

 

"Fine," he said, and the Fate's smile was suddenly a bit more genuine. "But you promise it will help me find him?"

 

"Of course." With that, she held out her hand. "Now give me what's in your pocket."

 

His hand found its way beneath the folds of his cloak and felt something that wasn't there before. It was a postcard. And he almost broke down then and there. The sadness that washed over him was tremendous. There was a moment that passed, where he remembered what it was Lindsay was asking for. 

 

He gasped as he pulled himself out of the memory. There was no way he could give that memory up. It was too important.

 

But he had to.

 

"Take it then."

 

Lindsay snatched it up and he almost cried out from the pain that came from it. It was as if something was being uprooted from him, leaving him a little emptier. He wondered for a minute if he would remember anything after Lindsay took the postcard before he forgot all about the sorrow and the pain, and most importantly about his old friend, Geoff.

 

Why was he crying? He couldn’t remember what memory had been taken. He hoped it wasn’t important. He hoped it was worth it most of all.

 

“Thanks. Now we can get started.”

 

"Alright then, how is this gonna work?" The Fates rarely did anything simply.

 

"Calm down, I'm working on it." With that she put the piece of paper she was holding into a hidden pocket and pulled out a small, ornate box. Well, she was the flashy kind. "Open this when you're back in the human's world and it'll tell you all you need to do."

 

He took the box gingerly and suddenly he was back in Michael's home. The only problem was there were too many people in the room.


	3. Falling Towards the Sky

As much as he detested it, it was his life. Living on the streets. Certainly not something anyone expected of him. He was such a good student after all. How did it go so wrong? He would just laugh in their face. Try to get a job in a crowded city where the most profitable business was of the black market variety. He wasn't one for kidnapping creatures of death or selling locks of the Fate's hair, though he was certain they were fake. What business did a Fate have in their world? Apparently something to do with cutting their hair.

 

"Jack!" Shouted one of the vendors. Really, why did he bother? There were so many more respectable businesses that he could shop at. But to be fair, the ones pegged as official and trustworthy were often the worst crooks and didn't look too kindly on beggars and others in the same vein. At least he knew a few trustworthy ones, such as the one shouting at him. He wished she would keep her voice down. "How are you this fine day?"

 

The vendor's cart was full of bottles and metal and strings, all claiming to be something different. In one was a curious sparkling substance claiming to be fairy dust. As if he was stupid! Everyone knew fairy dust was rarely ever white. They were a strange group, the fairies. And quite vain. There were stones and small blades with runes carved all over them. Some were for protection, others luck. He knew people frequented her booth when they were having troubles with werewolves or vampires. There wares were nothing if not reliable. The vendor herself was also well known. A springy young woman with a bright smile and red hair. Her name was Meg. "I've been managing. Do you have anything on sale today?"

 

Her smile only brightened. He wondered how she managed to smile all the time in a shady ally with many shady people. Though she wasn’t exactly exempt she wasn’t as bad as some. She wasn’t outwardly devious, quite the opposite, actually. He didn’t trust her completely. That would have been foolish, but she had earned most of his trust. She reached under her stall and grabbed something. It sounded like a plastic bag. "Nope, but I do have something for you."

 

She tossed him something wrapped tightly in a bag. It seemed too heavy for its size, and he started to peak at it before Meg let out a noise he took to mean stop. He did and shoved it in his ratty backpack. He would have to look at it later. "Thank you, Meg. I'll be sure to stop by at your stall next time I have some extra money!"

 

"Aw, no problem. It's the least I could do after you fixed my table the other day."

 

She waved him off with a smile and a heartfelt goodbye. He hadn’t expected anything to come from repairing her stall. Apparently people were more appreciative of his skills then he had originally thought. He found himself in his usual spot, a sheltered crack between two rival restaurants. They rarely bothered him and he could sleep there with no problems. They seemed to understand. It was a hard life, but he managed.

 

There were some ratty blankets and a sleeping bag but besides that there wasn’t much to suggest that someone lived there. He tended to keep all his things with him, in his pocket or in his bag. He slung the backpack off his shoulder and plopped down, heaving a sigh. He was done for the day so he stretched out and pulled his bag closer to him, digging out the package that Meg had given him and carefully unwrapped it. There was a package of jerky, some soap, a clean rag, and something strange shoved between a box of crackers. It was a heavy black stone covered in strange gold markings. Attached was a note written in Meg's pretty handwriting.

 

"This is something I found a while ago. No one seemed to want it, though I can't imagine why. It leads you to a better life, and again I can't imagine why someone wouldn't want it. Maybe everyone else is content with what they have. I know you aren't one of those people, so I decided to let you have it. I hope it brings you to a better life."

 

_Anything would be better than the one I have_ , was the first thing he thought upon reading the letter. He doubted a strange rock could do what Meg apparently believed it could, but it was a nice gift from a friend, so he slipped it in his pocket. Who knew, maybe it would work. It was probably just wishful thinking on his part, though. And if his life changed it probably wouldn’t be because of a weird rock his friend gave him.

 

He was jarred out of his thoughts from a noise farther down the alley from where he was. It sounded like someone was fighting, and he cautiously got up and inched towards the sound. Nothing good could come from the sound of fighting. He kept going though. It only got louder the closer he got, and it seemed to take too long before he actually caught a glimpse of what it was.

 

There were four of them, and he knew immediately what it was. It was a capture, as they tended to call it, they being the ones who did the dirty work in the reaper business. What was surprising was not that there was a capture going on in the ally he was in, but the fact that there were two reapers and not just one. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was incredibly rare. Usually there was only one at a time, and even if there were two it only made the capture all the more difficult. But that didn’t seem to be how it was turning out this time.

 

The smaller one went down first, caught and bound and beaten senseless. He had put up a good fight but was sorely inept in dealing with this world. He must have been a new reaper, one that still didn’t remember who he was and was still learning how to properly do his job.  His partner had taken longer to be put down, but eventually he was. The more experienced one had been treated the worst, tough he still clung to consciousness. They took the smaller one, and he could only guess that they were going to come for the other one soon.

 

Cursing himself for being so slow and just letting it happen in front of him he rushed forwards, checking on the reaper that had been left behind. He looked terrible. Why hadn’t he tried to help? Why had he just stood there? He could have done something, he could have prevented it. "H-hey, dude, can you stand?" The reaper didn't look like he could. Damn it, there went his original plan. He would have to do his best with the reaper as he was and hope it took longer for them to come back. "Alright, just... just stay here. I'm going to get something to help with the bleeding."

 

He rushed to his pseudo home and practically tore through his belongings for whatever medical supplies he could find. He didn’t know a lot about reapers but he was fairly certain when they were in this world wounds would affect them like they would a normal human.  Semi clean rags, soap, and water was all he could find to help him. They would have to do. He ran back to where the reaper had been and found only smears of blood. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing.

 

Panic gripped him and he ran out of the alley, looking around frantically for the man he had been so desperate to help, the supplies still clutched in his hands. He fell against the wall and breathed out heavily. Was he worth nothing? He couldn't even help a helpless reaper.

-.-

Michael was having a shit time. First he got into some undead reaper bullshit, then he got in trouble with his boss for being late to work, then he had to walk home because he never learned how to drive and had lost his cash for the subway. First off, it wasn’t even his fault he was late. It wasn’t Ryan’s fault either. It probably had something to do with the ridiculous amount of traffic. There was an emergency or something, with ambulances and fire trucks cramming themselves through the street, some even blocking the sidewalk. It was shaping up to be a great day, sarcasm heavily implied.

 

Maybe Ryan had gotten back with wherever it was he had to go, not that he cared all that much. To be honest if he didn’t show up again he’d be completely fine with it. It wasn’t his job and he was regretting doing anything in the first place, even if his motives were less than respectable. He didn’t really give a shit. And why should he? He was helping someone that he didn't have to. It was probably worth double what he hoped to get. There was always that chance that he would get nothing out of it, of course.  _  
_

 

But if Ryan was back when he got home he’d have to help regardless. Besides, it was Ray for God’s sakes. Even if he didn’t remember Michael or anything else for that matter he was still Ray and he had to help. He felt better than he had when he first heard who Ryan’s partner was. Sure, he still wanted to lock himself in a dark room and not come out until his eyes were dry and unable to cry but it wasn’t as bad. At least he would get to see Ray again. Well, only if he managed to pull off the rescue mission. Maybe he would make it a priority after all. 

 

As he walked he noticed someone in front of him. They were walking too, though he didn’t seem to be going anywhere. He had a hood pulled over his head and a worn backpack hanging from his shoulder. Usually he would have ignored anyone else, probably push past them and walk faster, leaving them in the dust so he didn’t have to look at them. So why was he still staring? Before he could wrench his eyes from the guy he turned around and noticed him staring.

 

“Uh…”

 

“Can I help you?” He didn’t seem too mad. That was a good sign. He wished the first thing out of his mouth hadn’t been so dumb, though. More importantly was there something he wanted from the guy? He’d just met him, but he felt like there was something important about meeting him. He couldn’t tell what it was, though. Damn.

 

“Uh… maybe?”

 

“Ok.” The response surprised him but he didn’t show it. The guy didn’t say anything else so he took it as the opportunity to leave. He started walking, trying to ignore the weirdo. It wasn’t until he was almost home that he realized the guy was following him. Maybe he shouldn’t have said maybe.

 

When he got to his door he dug in his pockets for his keys and stared at the guy. “So are you just going to keep following me whether I like it or not?”

 

He shrugged. “You said maybe. And this might sound weird but I think I’m supposed to be here, helping you.”

 

Ah, so he was crazy. Well, to be fair he was feeling the same way. It was the only reason he hadn’t called the cops on the guy yet. He shrugged back. “I’m Michael.”

 

“Jack.”

 

He unlocked the door of his apartment only to be met with a shitstorm. Gavin was sitting on the couch, looking like he was ready to kill someone. The other two in the room were the last people he expected to see, even if he only recognized one of them. He would have to talk to Ryan about his friends and basic etiquette, especially not fucking trashing a guy’s home. Speaking of Ryan, where the fuck was he?

-.-

The stars were bright, not that they were ever dim. A dim star meant that they were done and sleeping, far away from even death. It was when they stopped being and lay down their heads, never to lift them again. Though at that point they would have been old and tired as they were when their life came to an end. He would join them eventually. It just wasn't time yet.

 

Though he couldn't see them he knew what they looked like. Bright beacons in the cold blue ocean, waiting for their time when they didn't have to burn as bright. Living and dying was a tiring affair, one that he had long been ready to leave behind. But, again, it wasn't his time yet.

 

He existed alone, for the most part. No one ever wanted to see the damner of souls or the one that judged who you were in a life most couldn't remember. It was his job to decide difficult things. He had grown used to it, but the looks on their faces when he said they were to be sent to the fields to work off their life debts would never be easy to get used to, even if it had been so long since he could properly see.

 

There was one that did visit him, though. Her name was Lindsay and she was in a similar business. She was a Fate, and as such she was forced to watch as the world passed by and lead the souls where they needed to be. She had a fiery soul and rarely ever took anything laying down. "There's something I need help with."

 

He stood there, for he couldn't very well look her in the eye when he lacked any himself. "And what, pray tell, is that?" When she didn't answer he kept going. "What could the mighty Fate want with me, the lousy Gatekeeper. If I recall, it was me who sent you to that particular job when you died. Tell me, did you ever remember-"

 

"Shut up," she demanded in a cold, flat voice. She probably would have slapped him, had she not needed him. "I need to go to back to the mortal world."

 

He made a disapproving noise, much like a parent chiding a child. "Now, now, Lindsay. You know as well as I do that you're not allowed to do that."

 

He may have been blind, but he could tell she was smiling a wide, conspiring smile. "And I know you have a tendency to break those sorts of rules."

 

He smiled right back at her. "Right you are!" And with that, they were falling, falling, falling back to the mortal world.


End file.
